


Flow of information (on music and other data)

by Okkkay



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Classical Music, Handcuffs, M/M, Music, Sex Toys, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okkkay/pseuds/Okkkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave takes the opportunity to slip into the Ark when Jazz is the only Autobot at home. He is fully aware of the consequences, but he doesn't know what Jazz has in mind for him. Warning: explicit content and lots of classical music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flow of information (on music and other data)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14853525#t14853525 and http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14866325#t14866325

Jazz took one more look at the security monitor before cutting the feed and replacing it with a pre-made loop. Red Alert was not going to approve of his plans for today, so he was to be kept in the dark. The Autobot third in command was usually not supposed to have the Decepticon third in command in his room. Thinking about it, Jazz was sure that no Decepticon was to be allowed in the Ark, to start with.  
He sent a quick message to Optimus. To him, and him alone, because he knew his leader to also support cross-faction love for some odd reason. Jazz made a mental note to himself to find out the exact reason behind it later. Or what if he would just ask Soundwave? Yes, that would be a great task for today. Or tomorrow, if he manages to keep his lover on base that long.  
Optimus almost immediately pinged back an acknowledgement, also firmly reminding the BlackOps mech to keep his personal life between his own quarters. That had been Jazz’s plan anyway, so he didn’t pay much CPU capacity to the order.   
He heard Laserbeak whoosh high above his head, then the condor-former turned around with one swift movement, as if leading him out of the security lines’ server hub’s room. Jazz eagerly followed the flying spy. All three of them knew what was going to happen, although apparently Laserbeak wasn’t exactly fond of having to stand watch again. Eventually, he settled in a ventilation tube, and that maneuver told the Autobot that Soundwave must have been close by.  
Jazz grinned eagerly. It was hard to find an occasion when there were practically no other Autobots in the entire base. Optimus took almost everybot to the site of some new construction in Washington DC, the medics to be there in case of emergency, the builders to.... well... build that top-secret thing, and the spies to make sure the Decepticons won’t interfere. And of course all the warriors.  
Jazz was sure that one certain Decepticon would not be there to disturb the work. That one big, dark, masked and visored mech with a sexy cassette deck in his chest and a resonant, reverberating bass voice. The one currently hiding in the Ark’s rec room, hiding a bug under the robot-sized sofa. Apparently, he was too busy placing the sensitive small microphone, that he didn’t even notice Jazz sneaking behind him.  
What an aft. What a beautiful pair of thighs that transform into the speaker of his cassette player form. What a pretty white hand to step on. What a small, whisper-like gasp of surprise. Totally believable.  
“What should be your music today?” Jazz asked, wide grin on his face. His blue visor was also shining happily.  
“Giacomo Puccini” Soundwave replied. His voice, as always, was cold, monotone, vibrant.  
“Aw, classical again?” Jazz acted as if he was severely disappointed as he cuffed Soundwave’s trapped hand to the sofa.   
“Autobot Jazz visit on Nemesis: Ray Charles for two entire hours” Soundwave pointed out. “And your choice was Gene Russell” he added.  
With that, the Decepticon turned on his back and kicked the Autobot with both legs. Jazz flew a few meters backwards, and landed next to the energon dispenser.  
“Hey mech! I thought you were of the responsible type!” he lamented. “What if we broke that thing?”  
“Part regarding my responsibility: over” Soundwave replied, still lying on his back. “Conditions: discussed and agreed on. No more responsibility until further notice.”  
Jazz laughed out loud. This was exactly what he loved about Soundwave: the mech had real sense of humor, but acted as if everything around him was obvious and barely worthy on mention. But then, they really shouldn’t break the energon dispenser, or anything else in the base. He was the host here, while Soundwave was a prisoner he just captured. Of the two of them, this time he was the one to be held responsible if anything went awry.  
“If you insist” Jazz replied, and took a roll of heavy-duty wire out of his subspace. “As your interrogator, I cannot let you walk in this base, now can I?”  
He knotted a lasso on one end of the wire, and threw it on Soundwave’s right leg. As the loop tightened on the dark blue ankle, Jazz looked up to find the malfunctioning lamp stand he had brought in earlier today. That thing was not going to provide any light for reading anymore, but it would be quite useful in some other way. He threw the wire around the sturdy lampstand, and started pulling the other end. This way Soundwave’s leg was forced to slide towards the lamp in the corner, slowly turning the mech into a diagonal position on the floor, with his left hand cuffed to the sofa and his right ankle nearing the lamp with every pull.  
“Ain’t you sexy like this” Jazz mocked, grabbing Soundwave’s free leg so that it could no longer follow the right one, and the gap between the two limbs became wider and wider.  
Soundwave resisted as long as he could, but Jazz was stronger than meets the optic. He endured as his legs were pulled apart, and started to play Bach when any other prisoner would have started to beg, or curse, or maybe scream in panic.  
::You slut! The Wohltemperierte?:: he guessed on radio.  
::Das wohltemperierte Klavier:: Soundwave punctuallized, also on radio, appreciating that Jazz didn’t speak loud when there was REAL music to please their audials. ::I downloaded the sheets just before Megatron announced that the Decepticons were all to follow Starscream to Washington::   
::Appreciated:: Jazz replied while he fastened the wire on Soundwave’s right leg in a second loop.   
Now there was about half a metric distance between the two ankles. It would have been the maximum spread for some mechs, especially many grounder Autobots, but Jazz knew Soundwave’s transformation well enough and he wasn’t fooled when the Decepticon’s legs didn’t give anymore. But for now, he would play along: this hatch he had, was already enough for him to see Soundwave’s valve, and reach its cover with one finger.  
He did just that.   
The ‘Con faked to be inert, playing the prelude in C-major, as if he didn’t even feel Jazz’s touch. He didn’t move, didn’t shiver, didn’t tremble in anticipation. He didn’t open, either.   
He was just lying there, a prisoner, proud and composed, prepared to withstand anything his captor might do to him.  
Jazz caressed the cover of the valve again, openly enjoying the chance to do so, even if Soundwave was not responding to him yet. It was smooth and warm metal he was touching, full with nanytes, and the vibration of living mechanic tissue under it. But Soundwave’s left leg was still too close to the right one, and as the interrogator moved closer to touch the valve panel for the third time, the left knee he had been standing on was lifted up in the air just enough for him to lose his balance and fall off. Immediately afterwards, the left foot kicked into the Autobot, but he grabbed it and lifted it as high as he could. Soundwave was quite trapped on the floor, with only his right hand lose at the moment. He attempted to kick Jazz again, but the Autobot didn’t let his leg go. Quite the contrary.  
With right hand still full with Soundwave’s left leg, Jazz picked up the wire that ran to the lamp stand and from there, to the right ankle. One strong pull, and the lampstand began to fall towards him. He quickly tied the top of the lamp to the leg in his hand, and even welded it together with a tool he was always keeping with himself in his subspace. He grinned at Soundwave, mocking him to attempt another kick.   
And Soundwave did just that, with his right leg that still had the lasso on it, but was just loosely attached to the other end of the lampstand. The Decepticon didn’t quit playing ‘The well-tempered clavier’.   
Jazz looked up after the second round of welding, still holding the lampstand in one hand, Soundwave’s ankles thoroughly tied to it on either side. He was the host, he had to be the responsible one. Interrogating a prisoner in the rec room would have never been a wise idea, even if it was just for the fun of it, and without any other Autobots on the base. He would have to drag Soundwave aside, if he was to operate according to his plans.  
But first things first. Now that he had a makeshift spreader properly in position, he had a better access to that still-covered valve’s outer panel. He slid one hand on Soundwave’s crotch, fondly caressed the cap of the enormous spike (and felt his own valve clinch at the memory regarding that spike, only two weeks before) and began to pry the valve cover open manually.   
Soundwave let him try, not letting one single shiver out as Jazz’s middle finger reached into a very small gap between his panels. The other hand’s thumb followed, and soon, the valve itself was uncovered. Jazz unsubspaced a magnetic ring, and pressed it between the panels so that they couldn’t close back as he dutifully went back to the spreader-lampstand, and began to drag Soundwave out of the rec room. After a while, he remembered to un-cuff the mech’s arm from the sofa. He attached the other loop to the boxy blue mech’s neck, as if it was a collar. The right hand was still free for now, and he was careful to avoid its punches.  
For a while, they were moving towards the Ark’s main entrance. The wind was blowing outside. On the open corridor of the crashed ship, it felt to be a light breeze. Jazz turned the spreader (and thus, Soundwave) so that the cold air would tickle the open valve which Soundwave was now unable to close.  
Soundwave’s vents finally kicked in, indicating that he wasn’t the emotionless cold brick he was often mistaken for. However, he was still silent, apart from the virtuose harpsicord music he was emitting from his built-in speakers.  
:: Fugue in c-minor, eh? Playful music:: Jazz admitted. :: Apparently I was misinformed that the minor scales, also called ‘moll’ are soft and restrained and pathetic.”  
::Music: holds secrets and surprises:: Soundwave replied. ::Minor scale, major scale: tones full with meaning. Failure to get them properly is equal to failure to get another FACTION properly. Thought of Jazz higher than that::  
The mech in question turned around, dropping the lampstand he had been dragging, and knelt down at Soundwave’s audiosensor. He waited for the track to end, however, before speaking up.  
“Don’t ya ever think I’m not worthy of you.”  
“No intention” was the reply. “Query: c-minor’s dominant key being G-major. High preference for that.”  
“So you’re skipping five pairs of preludes?” Jazz asked. “Ya think ya not have time for all?”  
“Intention: continue with D-major. Dominant to G.”  
To be honest, Jazz didn’t have a very high opinion of diatonic scales, or music theory as a whole. But Soundwave playing the Wohltemperierte in a seemingly randomized order, well, that was more like him. And he had a lot of ideas for the two of them for the entire duration of the musical piece, so why not let his poor prisoner have some satisfaction?   
“Yar choice” he finally said.   
He found a human’s dropped pen on the corridor. It was small, fragile, certain not to damage Soundwave even if it would go somewhere it shouldn’t. He happily lifted it up and trotted back to Soundwave’s center, where the music was the most intensely heard. He compared the size of the small tool and Soundwave’s buildup, then he placed the pen in a vertical position with its end on the ground. The ball didn’t reach as high as the lower rim of the open valve, but it was close. It would provide nice little friction, Jazz decided.  
Since he was there, Jazz already ran a finger into the ring-gag. Again, Soundwave gave no visible sign of having felt anything, but all his body’s unintentional changes (ventilation, energy fields, slight lubrication) told Jazz that his prisoner quite felt what he was doing. He repeated the movement in the other direction, then continued dragging Soundwave along the corridor.  
There was the Prime’s office on the left, much closer than Jazz’s own. So why wouldn’t he just stop here, and stop wasting their precious time?   
And look. A sturdy bookshelf that’s attached to the wall so it would not collapse or fall. He quickly tied Soundwave’s right hand to the middle with a twice-welded knot, high enough that the mech couldn’t just hang to the floor.   
::So let me get to work on you:: Jazz started. He stepped to Soundwave’s left side, and caressed the entire length of the arm that was still fixed to Soundwave’s neck. ::How did the ‘Cons know about the energy convoy we were supposed to protect from you last Saturday?::  
Soundwave didn’t even flinch when Jazz ran one finger from the cuffed wrist to the bent elbow, then to the shoulder, down to his neck, and finally started circling on the edges of his mouthplate. The Autobot gently touched the minimal surface of metal between the visor and the big plate. His fingertips barely reached the sensitive area.  
He needed something smaller.  
He went back to the valve. Playful as it will be to toy with Soundwave’s entire frame, the valve was the most sensitive part. Or at least, one of those.   
::What a wonderful, active thing this is:: Jazz messaged. He picked up the human-size pen, and circled it inside the ring. This time Soundwave couldn’t fake not to have felt it.   
::You like it?:: Jazz asked. Soundwave didn’t reply.   
::You like it?:: he repeated. Soundwave moved on to A-major, but didn’t react otherwise.   
::You like it?:: Third time was the charm, Soundwave moaned beyond his control.   
::Good, because I’m leaving it like that:: Jazz straightened up. True to his word, he left the pen in the ring, its tip resting against the dorsal wall of the now warm valve. Jazz moved on to the Decepticon’s right side, and started playing with Soundwave’s right hand, the one he was hanging on, wired to the bookshelf. He used just enough force that Soundwave could, when he put his entire mind to it, ignore. Then he pushed just a slight bit stronger, and Soundwave’s hanging frame moved. As did the valve. As did the pen in his valve.  
::I hope you like swinging::  
Soundwave moaned again. Jazz suddenly hugged him, at chest level, with both hands. This, of course, caused futher moving beyond Soundwave’s control, and the pen, again, moved accordingly.  
::Hey, you know what? I have a marble for you. This one, here::  
Jazz showed up a tiny yellow ball. Knowing his own frame’s dimensions, Soundwave was sure it would fit into his valve without difficulties.  
But of course, with Jazz noone could take anything for granted. The marble was small enough, but the gag’s opening was even smaller. Jazz had to take it out before pushing the yellow marble in.   
::So, how did the Decepticons know about the convoy?:: Jazz asked again. But instead of answering him, however, Soundwave closed his valve as soon as the ring was taken out.   
::Awwww, so you like that pen this much:: Jazz mocked. He sat on his knees next to Soundwave’s frame. The right arm was fixed so high that Jazz could make a fist under his spinal strut, and he could slide his palm under the lower back. He would return to this region later, he decided, but for now, he would need to pry that valve open again. This time, from inside.  
Soundwave was playing the a-minor prelude now, and his frame heated up intensely with Jazz rocking him on his palm. Who knew that one single Autobot’s one hand would do such to him? Left and right, left and right, his ventilation was now running at full capacity. Left and right, the back of his neck and his cuffed left arm were grinding against the bookshelf’s strut. This was almost unbearably good. Left and right. Of course, that pen was moving inside him accordingly. Although Jazz couldn’t see it, but his valve convulsed with every movement. And now, not only the gentle rocking, Jazz was also running his hand on his back, caressing every panel that was not getting rubbed by the bookshelf. He would have his first overload in a matter of astroseconds. His valve panel opened.  
And in that moment, Jazz moved one quick hand into the gap, no less than four fingers pushing in his valve in a rough and uncaring manner. Before he would have as much as grunted, the gag ring was back in its place, and Jazz still had his fingers inside him.   
::Now here is what’s going to happen, Sounders:: Jazz grinned cruelly. ::I remove the ring. You keep the valve open. I put in the marble. You keep your valve open. I put the ring back. Understood?::  
Soundwave nodded in acknowledgement. Again, his frame moved along with him, but in a new angle. It was nowhere near Jazz’s gentle rocking.  
::On second thought. Why would I trust you?::  
With that, Jazz slid over Soundwave’s crotch to have better access, and lifted up the marble ball again.   
::This thing is so small, it should fit in anyway:: Jazz decided. Then, he leant closer, and pushed the tiny thing between his fingers and the gag.   
::There. I love it when you’re reasonable::  
He pulled his fingers out, and went to wash his hands.  
On halfway to the washrack, he changed his mind.   
::Well, it’s not that juicy. What do you think?::  
He stood over Soundwave, in a large sprawl above his chest, and leant down to almost the mech’s neck. He slid his fingers under the battle mask.  
::Nahhh. It should have been more lubricated for me to doo that:: he finally decided.   
He sat down on the floor next to Soundwave, resting his back against the other’s left side.   
::Hmmm, you’re comfortable:: he said after a little squirming. ::And I love that music of yours. It has a rhythm to rock by::  
Soundwave still didn’t react to him. He continued with B-major, in the middle of which Jazz turned around and rested his own chest against Soundwave’s, almost sheer to the other mech’s frame. He lamented on how short that part was, and he considered the b-minor boring.  
::It is no rush:: Soundwave commented.   
::Let me show you something more interesting, then:: Jazz straightened out. He placed three cups on Soundwave’s cassette deck’s straight cover. ::See? There’s nothing under this cup. Or this one. Or this one. But if I change them? Oh look! Here’s a yellow marble, just identical to the one you just have got. Looks like a good toy, right? Now let me change the other two cups. Oh look! Another ball here, a white one. And here! And now they’re gone. And now they’re here, but both are yellow. Gone again. Jazzman just learned the cups and balls trick. Do you know how do people finish this kind of performance? Ta-daaaaam!::  
And, from under one of the balls, he lifted up a ball that was larger than the cup itself. ::Come on, are you not amused?::  
::Negative:: Soundwave lied.  
::I heard that!::  
Jazz went back to Soundwave’s valve, like the housewife who checks if the water is boiling already. Well, it WAS boiling alright: or at least, the heat and the lubricant together made an unlikely vapour, and Jazz was delighted to smell that. With one finger, he reached in to get the pen. When he had the pen, he started to roll the ball left and right with it.  
Again, Soundwave’s body betrayed him. To the outside, he wasn’t feeling the uncannily good movement with each sensor node. To the outside, he wasn’t convulsing in the want for more. To the outside, he wasn’t nearing an overload again.   
With the same method as before, Jazz slid in another, but white marble of the smaller type. Soundwave let out a small moan as Jazz started rocking him again, then he hissed in disappointment as the Autobot stood up and placed the dripping pen on his abdominal PLAY button.  
::I just remembered a good game humans find challenging in a simple way. I will bring you the more exciting version:: he promised. And left the office.  
Soundwave was left alone, cuffed, spread, gagged, and with two small marbles running havoc in his valve. For half a minute, it was insanely hot. After one entire minute, he stared to feel abandoned. He wondered where Jazz might had disappeared.   
Without his frame swinging, the two balls finally came to a rest inside. He paused at the end of the piece he was playing, and wondered if he should continue at all. Being with Jazz for a longer period of time was the entire point for him. He felt betrayed.  
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Jazz assured him when the music stopped.   
Soundwave was still not in the mood to continue. To be alone, he could have just stayed at the Nemesis, or went with the Decepticons. Idly, he squirmed until he had some more weight on his cuffed hand (Jazz cuffed him!) and his legs (Jazz spread them apart!) and he started to swing by his own. The balls came to moving again. It was like masturbating.  
He had tried that, once. Never again. He was literally rubbing his own faceplate (well, no, more like his spike) into the loneliness that surrounded him.   
Of course, he had the cassetticons. They were fine. They were his. They were good to talk to, they were even good to please. But they were not the same as a consenting partner of more or less the same size, much less, of the same rank. They happily complied with his requests, he happily complied with theirs. But that was it: one partner doing as the other pleased, someone stating his business and getting exactly what he wanted to receive. He wanted something else. He wanted something just as unpredictable as Jazz.  
He wanted Jazz with all his frame. Not just now, not in this roleplay with the prisoner and the interrogator. Of course, Jazz was now in-character and had all the rights to leave him alone in a cell (or, in Optimus Prime’s office, if that was more convenient) so he chose one random item from the bookshelf. He couldn’s see what he was touching with his right hand’s fingers, but there were two datapads that were just screaming for him to grab and read. He picked one of them, and onlined it.  
He couldn’t believe his optics. Was After the Ark on Optimus Prime’s bookshelf, in such central position?! He checked and double-checked. Then he reached for the other datapad, and he couldn’t decide whether to be surprised or not when it turned out to be Towards peace.   
He ran superficial scans, then deeper. Both these had been used recently, and not just once. If Optimus Prime was not reading Megatron’s essays, then they must have been borrowed by one of his subordinates.   
He picked up Jazz’s energy field, radiating with cheerful pride. “I found it!”  
Soundwave quickly put both datapads back to their places. He was the interrogated one, this time, so he wasn’t going to ask who was reading.   
“So, how did the Decepticons know about the convoy?” Jazz asked again. “You won’t overload until you tell me.”  
Soundwave looked up at him, and his visor and mask thankfully hid his terror. Jazz was holding a cue stick.  
“Matching, eh?” Jazz said. Soundwave froze to unresponsive. The two balls rolled to the entrance of his valve, just behind the gag.  
“So, let me see how to play if the cue ball is almost out of sight”. Jazz rested the cue stick across the lampstand he was using as a spreader, and slid its tip into the valve ring. He hit the white ball carefully, and pulled the cue stick out so that he could see the effects.  
Well. Just like before, he checked for what Soundwave’s frame was communicating, and this time, he was one rigid block of NO.   
“What is it?” Jazz repeated the move, sliding the tip of the cue stick in, but this time he didn’t care if he would hit anything or not. All he had sensors for, was Soundwave freezing into a solid, enduring, voiceless piece again. When he removed the cue stick, he could see some of the sudden stiffness to ease.   
Jazz didn’t attempt another try, much less did he wait for Soundwave to play their “too much” signal. He put away the stick, far out of Soundwave’s sight, far from his own reach. He knelt down next to the other mech, slid his right arm between the bent arm and the dark blue helmet.   
“What is it, Sounders?”  
Those optics... those optics scared him. He touched Soundwave’s face with his other hand, and started to gently rock the mech. Luckily, the balls inside were now a familiar sensation, and Jazz’s hold itself was proof of security and source of confidence.  
After a klik that felt to be a breem or maybe more, Soundwave responded.  
“Memory. Not mine. Picked up. Later, placed in minds where I wanted to leave a trigger.”  
“Apparently, it backfired” Jazz nodded, still holding Soundwave. “I wasn’t going to push it in all-length. The ring gag would have held it, if nothing else.”  
He allowed Soundwave to see in his mind that he was telling the truth. Sadly, Soundwave could also see that at the same time he saved the information for later analysis, and that he was quite upset for Soundwave having used such memory to break others’ minds.   
“War.” Soundwave pointed out. “Not our choice. What we can do: we can grab the moment. Indulge in its opposite, once in a while.”  
“Cool. Now, what if I turned you around? On your feet, soldier!”  
Soundwave cooperated. He turned to his left side, then to his abdomen. His right arm was still high above him, and currently he was facing some Earth literature – namely, a novel called “Az arany ember”. The two balls kept rolling up and down again, toying with him in his new position, and Jazz’s hands were running everywhere between his neck and his aft.  
“How about some little spanking?” Jazz said. “I’m sure you can find some drum solo to your taste if you try! Or what about the Dies irae part of Verdi’s Requiem? Even I love that! Or Zarathustra, if you’re in a German mood for today?”  
::Also sprach Zarathustra, from Richard Strauss:: Soundwave nodded. He played the brass fanfare as Jazz settled on his back, and Jazz started beating his aft with his two palms with perfect timing. The tone wasn’t exactly accurate, they both had to admit, but Soundwave very quickly relaxed into the (for Jazz, surprisingly) predictable physical contact. He repeated the fanfare, and Jazz followed him, creatively using his plating as timpani, bass drums, bell, or whatever the partiture demanded. When he had nothing to do, he was just running his fingers in the valve ring, or massaging Soundwave’s spread legs along with the melodies. Sometimes he would just take a random piece of armor and play with as if it was some woodwind instrument, or he laid on top of the Decepticon in his entire length, surrounded his bent left hand with his own, and took Prime’s bent stylus from his desk to be used as a violin’s bow. Soundwave kept radiating calmness, joy, confidence and unmistakable love to the playful artist.   
Jazz played him as a harp, with some additional wires on his legs as strings. Later those same strings functioned as cymbals.   
::Frenzy would be sooo envious of you right now:: Soundwave radioed at a seemingly random point.   
::That’s why he is not here:: Jazz said, hugging Soundwave again, and gently rocking with him to the melody the Decepticon was playing at that time. He could feel his own spike demanding a lot more direct contact, but he knew that Soundwave was not here for a quick overload. For now, those two balls should just do nicely. And a pleasant rub against his back and right armpit. Making Soundwave feel comfortable was much more important than just spiking him would be. Soundwave was his own counterpoint in life.   
“I believe that I was a discord on earth which through death shall be gloriously resolved in purity.” He muttered at a whim.   
::Where is that quote from?:: Soundwave asked.   
::Pilgrimage to Beethoven. From yet another Richard::  
::Can I make a guess?::  
::No. It was Wagner. He wrote it when he was in his twenties:: Jazz spoiled it.   
::Hahh!::  
The music they were playing, however, ended unresolved, just like their every action had until now. Jazz put Prime’s stylus back on the desk, and cut the additional strings on Soundwave. He would need the space for the next round of unresolved, life-essence joy of being with the one who understands him.  
However, Soundwave started to sing in his beautiful baritone, although the aria he chose was intended for tenor.   
“Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma.... Tu pure, o Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza, guardi le stelle che tremano d'amore, e di speranza!”   
Jazz didn’t with argue him. In accordance with their agreement, the Puccini was the last song for today. He helped Soundwave up from the ground, although the cuff on his right hand still kept him in a bent position. He had little time left: if Soundwave decided he had to leave, he had to respect that decision. Even if the mech didn’t answer his in-game (but still, deadly important) question.   
::How did the Decepticons know about the convoy?:: he asked, daring, hoping. He slid his fingers into Soundwave’s valve, and played on the oversensitive surface until the valve opened enough for the gag to easily come out. Then he pressed in deeper, fist-deep, and Soundwave’s core temperature rose even higher. Jazz knew the size difference between them, and was aware that Soundwave was merely getting a full-surface contact in his valve when a mech of his own size would long be screaming in pain. He touched one of the marbles, and moved on. He touched the another one.  
“Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me; il nome mio nessun saprà! No, No! Sulla tua bocca lo dirò quando la luce splenderà!”   
Jazz slid his inner hand through the well-lubricated surface, and with the other, he reached for the button that opens Soundwave’s cassette deck. Soon, the outer hand was sliding into the subspace panel, supporting the bent Decepticon’s abdominal region.  
“Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio che ti fa mia!”  
Jazz replied with the chorus, in his just as characteristic, but in his opinion, not quite matching voice. He pushed even deeper, deep enough that he could palpate the circuits running with extra energy, as Soundwave’s frame prepared to overload yet again. This time, for real.   
“Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle!”  
Those were the sounds of an oncoming overload all right. He ran his fingers through all the sensory surfaces again, not leaving one node out.   
“Tramontate, stelle!”  
Yes, Soundwave was in for an overload that would shake the stars. He deserved it, with his stubborn silence, if not else. The interrogator had to admit that the prisoner withstood all the torture he was exposed to. He was to be rewarded for his courage and endurance, and let’s just forget about the cue stick fiasco. Such things happen when one is the Decepticon third in command. He pressed hard on one certain sensor node.  
“All'alba vincerò!” Soundwave screamed, and Jazz rubbed his outer hand against his abdomen, just under the point he was pressing from the inside.  
“Vincerò! Vinceeee......”  
Jazz remembered that he also had another question to ask, namely: how could all the Autobots be so conveniently driven away from the base, and Soundwave get in here without being suspicious to anyone among the Decepticons? He saved that question for next time. Now all he had to do was not to move for a few astroseconds, so that the circuits would all short out, and burn with the sensation of having found the most matching and worthy partner.   
“...eeeròòòòòòò!”  
The jolt ran through their frames both. They lost sense of time, space, lost sight, hearing. Soundwave even lost his telepathy for a few seconds, which was bad, because he just picked up something that he should have urgently told Jazz. But maybe, in the end, it was better that they didn’t. The two of them shared a magnificient, Ark-shaking, mind-blowing overload, and felt as if they were the first to ever experience the feeling, they felt as if this point had been the climax of the entire universe and the beginning point of a new one.   
Well, it was also the moment when Optimus Prime stepped into his own office, only to find the cuffed and leg-spreaded Soundwave overload chained to his bookshelf. Jazz collapsed on him, but not before recognizing the silver mech standing right behind the Autobot leader.   
“Well, we tapped on the door, didn’t we” he said in a very awkward tone.  
“Let’s just go and find another room nearby” Megatron sighed.


End file.
